


Love and Blood and Whiskey

by Archivist_Essa



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Typical Horror, F/M, First Kiss, I'm not good at pacing, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Angst, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, The Mechanisms - Freeform, The Mechs are Jon's college band, because they deserve that, canon typical worms, god these boys are idiots, ish, jon has a crush on martin, martin has a crush on jon, martin has a crush on jonny d'ville, mostly they just get to be happy, not!sasha doesn't exist, sasha and tim are happy, the stranger can bite me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23805061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archivist_Essa/pseuds/Archivist_Essa
Summary: Everything is actually going well for Jonathan Sims, for once. He's properly friends with all of his assistants now, and when they invite him out for drinks he is very pleased to accept. Until he discovers that it's karaoke night at the pub. And Martin's favourite band is one he's intimately familiar with. He's going to murder Tim.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Sasha James & Jonathan Sims, Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Comments: 293
Kudos: 1196





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm horribly attached to this headcanon and I apologise for nothing. Please leave me comments, I absolutely love reading them!!

It wasn’t meant to be a secret, exactly, it was just that there were some things Jon wanted to keep to himself. Largely because those things getting out in the office would have completely ruined his stern Archivist persona, and he was rather attached to the way things were right now. He’d finally reached a point with the others where they were friendly more often than not, and he’d even agreed to go for drinks that night with them. 

Which turned out to be a mistake. 

“Karaoke?! Tim, you didn’t tell me it was a karaoke night!”

Timothy Stoker did his best impression of innocence. It wasn’t convincing. 

“Didn’t I? Must have slipped my mind, sorry about that, boss!”

Jon ran a hand through his hair. It was down tonight, and without the bun to stop him, he began twisting strands around his fingers nervously. 

“I’m not singing,” he started. 

“No, no, of course you’re not, boss,” Tim’s grin was mischievous. “There are some great bands on the list though, some of them are really obscure. It’s so nice that they’ve got such a wide selection.”

“Oh yeah, like what?” Sasha asked. She was leaning against Tim in a slightly-too-casual way that did absolutely nothing to hide the growing affection between the two of them. Jon was happy for them actually. He thought they made quite a good pair, Sasha reigning in Tim’s wilder side and Tim able to bring Sasha a little more out of her shell. 

“Oh, you know, a bit of everything,” Tim said, waving a hand vaguely. He was making a lot of pointed eye contact with Jon and it was making him very very worried. 

“Where’s Martin?” Jon asked, if only to deflect the conversation a bit. 

“He texted a minute ago, said he was just getting off the tube, he should be here soon,” Sasha replied. 

“Anyone want another drink?” Tim piped up. 

“Ooooh yes! I am not singing anything without at least two more vodkas in my system,” Sasha giggled. 

“In that case, it would be simply criminal not to supply you with them, wouldn’t it?” Tim grinned at her, his fondness momentarily blinding. 

Jon wondered vaguely if that’s what it would look like if he let himself smile at Martin properly. He shook his head to rid himself of the thought. No point in dwelling on that kind of thing. 

“How about you, boss? Want a top up?” Tim asked, pulling him back to the present. 

“No, thank you, Tim. I’m fine for now.” 

“Suit yourself. Keep an eye out for Martin, will you?” Tim winked at him as he and Sasha headed towards the bar. 

Ha. Very funny Tim. Like he wasn’t horribly aware that he’d been glancing not-so-subtly at the door every few seconds as it was. And as his eyes betrayed him once again and flicked towards the entrance to the pub, he caught the flash of blonde that he’d been searching for. Martin was looking around the pub, blue eyes roaming the crowd, curls bouncing slightly as he moved his head. Jon stuck up an arm and waved. Recognition dawned on Martin’s face, and he quickly navigated through the hubbub of people towards the archivist. 

Jon lowered his arm and absentmindedly began to twist his hair in his fingers again. It wasn’t that being around Martin made him  _ anxious _ exactly, it was more that  _ not _ being around Martin had begun to feel like waiting. As if his life had been broken up into two categories: Martin, and everything else. And everything else just wasn’t enough anymore. He sighed. It was his own fault for pushing the man away for two years, he could hardly do a 180 now and tell him that he- 

Jon didn’t dare to finish that thought. 

“Hey,” Martin smiled at him as the taller man finally got to him through the crowd. 

“Hullo,” Jon nodded back. 

“Where are the others?” Martin asked, craning his neck to try and spot them.

“By the bar, they were- ah.” 

Jon cut himself off as he turned to point out Sasha and Tim, and found them kissing like their lives depended on it. Martin giggled. Jon thought he might die. 

“They seem, um, a bit preoccupied,” Martin laughed. 

“Yes, they do,” Jon grumbled. How was he supposed to cope with being around Martin without the buffer of Sasha and Tim? His hands started to sweat. 

“So, are you going to sing?” Martin asked. 

Jon choked. “-mfgh. Um, no, no I do not think so.”

“Oh, why not?” The question wasn’t judgemental, it was purely curious. 

“I just… I’m not very good and I don't feel comfortable singing in front of people.” Jon winced at the lie. Well, not  _ completely _ a lie.  _ Jon _ didn’t feel comfortable singing in front of people. 

“That’s alright, Tim didn’t tell you it was karaoke did he?” Martin guessed. Jon shook his head and Martin laughed again. “Idiot. I might have a go though,” he added. 

“Oh? I didn’t know you sang,” Jon was surprised. He knew a lot about Martin now, but this was one fact that had escaped him. Not that it didn’t make sense now that he thought about it, he was always humming under his breath as he made tea or did the filing. 

“Well, I don’t, not properly. But I like music. And I actually quite enjoy karaoke,” Martin clarified. He seemed so much more relaxed outside of the Archives. Almost casual. Less of that fidgeting nervous energy he seemed to radiate normally. 

“Huh,” Jon huffed. “What are you going to sing then?” 

“Not sure yet, come have a look at the list with me?” Martin shrugged. 

Jon nodded, not trusting his voice to respond without a crack. This was  _ good _ . He didn’t have to sing, Tim was, well, otherwise occupied and therefore would not be teasing him about not singing, and he was going to get to listen to Martin  _ sing _ . This was very good. So he followed Martin over to the little booth where the list of songs was laid out and leant against the wall while Martin flicked through, rambling about the various choices. 

“Oh! Oh this, definitely this!” Martin’s exclamation cut off his own ramblings. “I can’t even believe they  _ have _ these guys, they’re my favourite band, but they’re not exactly well known.”

“Oh? Who are they?” Jon asked, leaning forward to try and see the list. Martin shielded it and grinned at him. 

“You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?” 

Jon shrugged. 

“Yes, I suppose I will.” 

Martin added his name to the list with the dj and then the two of them made their way to the bar, connecting back up with Sasha and Tim who had (thankfully) untangled for the time being. The four of them chatted and drank and Jon was starting to feel comfortable. Like he belonged here, in this little group, with these people who were now his friends. He hadn’t felt that way since… well for a long time now. He had completely forgotten about Tim’s weirdness at the start of the evening. Or at least, he had until it was Martin’s turn to get up and sing. 

It took Jon a couple of seconds, longer than it should have done really but he blamed the alcohol for that, but then he placed it. 

“When I was a little girl, my mother always told me, ‘Someday your prince will come, my love’, But as I grew, I knew it was a princess who would hold me.” Martin sang. 

_ Oh. Oh no. _

“I have to go,” Jon said, loud over the music. “Tell Martin I said um, bye?” 

“Already, boss? Not gonna stay for the rest of the show?” Tim’s smirk was wide and Jon had a sudden urge to slap it off his face.  _ He knew _ . How he knew, Jon could not fathom, but he clearly did. Instead though, he just shook his head. 

“No, I need to- Look, I’ll see you on Monday, alright?” 

And with that he was out of the door, ignoring Sasha’s bewildered stare, Tim’s mirthful one, and most of all the lyrics still floating from the stage. He hoped Martin couldn’t see him scuttling away. He didn’t want to hurt his feelings, the performance really was very good. He just couldn’t handle it, he couldn’t stand there and listen to Martin sing  _ that _ song.  _ Oh god _ . 

“Forgive me, my love, as I fled ever higher, I ran to the stars without you, my love.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is worried about how Martin will react to his sudden disappearance on Friday night, but it turns out it's the dissapearance of Martin he should have been concerned with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how long this is going to be exactly but I can already feel it spiraling (hehe) away from me, so expect many chapters to come. Please leave me a comment, I love reading them!   
> TW: canon-typical worms

“Morning, boss,” Tim’s cheery greeting was met with an icy glare. “Ouch, frosty today, what did I do?”

“You know what you did, Timothy,” Jon responded. 

“Oh, you mean how I invited you out with us on Friday night, and we were having a wonderful time, and then Martin sang a song by his favourite band, and then you left in a hurry for no reason at all?” Tim’s smirk was audible. 

“I hate you,” Jon deadpanned. 

“No you don’t, boss,” Tim sang back, sauntering away to his desk. 

Jon grumbled under his breath and retreated to his office. Sinking into his chair he buried his face in his hands. Sasha hadn’t mentioned the incident on Friday at all, but Martin hadn’t arrived yet, and Jon was struggling to come up with a reasonable lie about his disappearing act. They had been getting on so  _ well _ and then he’d just left. He felt awful about it, but he didn’t know how to explain it to Martin without revealing that  _ he had written the song he was singing _ . 

“Ughhhhh,” he groaned, collapsing further onto his desk. 

“Jon?” the voice was familiar and concerned, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Martin, fine. Thank you,” Jon replied, sitting up smartly. 

“Are you sure?” Martin came fully into the room, and Jon could see that he was holding a steaming mug of tea in one hand. He set it down on the desk in front of Jon, a little frown creasing his forehead as he studied him.  _ God that was so adorable _ . 

“Yes, I just, I had a bit of a headache, but it’s nothing much,” Jon grit his teeth at the lie. 

“Do you want me to get you some paracetamol or something?” Martin asked, the frown deepening as his concern did. 

“No, thank you, Martin. It’s really fine. Thank you for the tea, though,” Jon managed, a small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. Martin beamed at him. 

“Oh! You’re welcome. I thought, well, after Friday…” Martin trailed off. 

“Yes, about that, Martin, I-”

“It’s fine! You don’t have to explain!” Martin cut him off in a hurry, suddenly very anxious to leave the room. “I’ve got a bit of follow up to do on a statement so I’ll see you later, anyway.” And then he was gone. 

Well that was strange. Why didn’t Martin want an explanation? Did he not care that Jon had left early? Or was it worse than that, did he think Jon left because he didn’t like his singing?  _ Oh god. _ Jon really was starting to get a headache and he wished he’d taken Martin up on his offer of painkillers. 

Nothing for it but to get back to work he supposed. Take his mind off of… everything. He turned to a drawer and pulled out a manilla folder. A small buzz in the back of his mind made him flinch a bit, but then he picked up the tape recorder too, and flicked it on. 

“Statement of Sebastian Adekoya, regarding a new acquisition at Chiswick Library. Original statement given June 10th, 1999. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.”

…….

“Statement ends.”

2 weeks. It had been 2 weeks since anyone had seen Martin Blackwood. Jon had tried calling to follow up about his texts that said he was ill with “stomach problems”, but he never got any reply. And it was silly to be worried about it. Martin was just sick, that was all. People got sick all the time, and if he was bad enough to not be able to pick up the phone, then it was not a good idea to go round to his apartment looking for him because whatever it was was clearly infectious. No, no it was better to just wait until he came back to work and then Jon would be able to make sure that he was alright. Still, calling again couldn’t hurt. 

Jon picked up his phone and typed in the number. It rang straight through to the voicemail, exactly like it had every other time. 

_ “Hi, you’ve reached Martin Blackwood’s phone. If you want to tell me something, I’m very sorry but I’ll have to get back to you. Leave a message though. If you want to, you don’t have to, obviously, but you coul-BEEP” _

“Martin. I hope you’re feeling better. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, at all. I mi- The team are worried about you. Anyway, call me back when you can. It’s Jon, by the way. Again. Um. Goodbye.” 

Jon hung up the phone and banged his head on his desk.  _ Idiot.  _ Turning back to the tape recorder he picked up the additional notes for the statement he’d been recording and began to add his commentary. He’d almost finished when…

“I recall the name Simon Fairchild was one of the ones used by- My god! Martin?!” 

Martin crashed into the office, his face a mask of pure and total panic. Jon felt his heart stop. He wanted to move, to hug him, to reassure him that it was okay, to ask what was wrong, but he felt frozen to the spot. It wasn’t until he registered that Martin’s panic was directed at the floor that he looked down to see a silvery wriggling worm-like thing by his foot. He stamped on it, instinctively. Then he saw another, and another, and another. Martin was practically dancing as he furiously crushed the worms under his boots. 

“What… What the hell is this? What are these things?!” 

Martin didn’t respond, he just kept stamping on the worms. Jon got up and did the same, unsure entirely of why but knowing it was the right thing to do. When all of the worms were squelched into little black stains on Jon’s carpet, the two of them stood still for a second, panting heavily. It was, somewhat shockingly, Jon who broke the silence. 

“Martin, are you alright?”

“No!” Martin’s voice was high and drenched in hysterical panic. “No, I am not alright! I’ve been trapped in- you know what, Jon? I think I need to make a statement.”

Jon reeled.  _ Trapped? _

“You want to… Are you sure, Martin?”

“Yes. Yes I mean, I think I need to.” Martin took in a shaky breath. “Please, Jon.”

Jon melted. He couldn’t understand why Martin needed to do this, or how it would help, but he’d do just about anything when Martin turned his puppy-dog eyes on him and said “Please, Jon,” like that. 

“Yes, of course, alright, Martin.”

….

Several hours later, Martin shuffled into Jon’s office. He was wearing a set of pyjamas that were quite clearly Tim’s, given that they were a) far too small, and b) had a slogan across the shirt that said “I’m bringing sexy back.”

“Jon?”

Jon looked up from his notes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. When had it got dark? He clicked on the little lamp on his desk and tried not to stare at how the tightness of the top Martin was wearing outlined his chest. He flicked his eyes down to avoid it and immediately regretted that choice when he was instead met with the sight of Martin’s bare legs. The bottom half of the pyjama ensemble was a pair of what were essentially booty shorts. And they were also far too tight. Jon forgot how to breathe. 

“Jon?” Martin repeated. Jon lifted his eyes very deliberately to Martin’s face. He looked so tired. 

“Y- yes, Martin?” Jon coughed, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat that had absolutely nothing to do with the image in front of him whatsoever. 

“I, um, I can’t sleep.” 

“Oh.” Jon frowned. 

“It’s just, not that staying here isn’t a great idea, it is, and I’m very grateful, but it’s very dark and not familiar, you know, and I’m still quite jumpy about, well, everything, and I’m… I’m scared.”

Martin shuffled from foot to foot. Twisting his fingers in front of him, he looked so apologetic and impossibly  _ small _ that Jon didn’t have time to stop himself before he’d reacted on instinct. Standing up, he moved around the desk smoothly, and pulled Martin into a hug. Martin went stiff for a second before relaxing suddenly and wrapping his arms around Jon’s middle to hug him back. Jon couldn’t think. His brain was screaming incomprehensibly. After a few moments he broke the hug and stepped back. His arms felt horribly empty. 

“Would it help if I stayed in the Archive too? I probably wasn’t going to make it home tonight anyway, I’ve got too much work to get done,” Jon offered.

“Oh, um, actually, yes. Thank you. Yes.” Martin looked shocked but largely pleased, and a small smile was lifting his eyes out of the terror that had consumed them for two weeks. 

“Right then,” Jon nodded, considering the matter resolved. “I’ll go and make us some tea, shall I?” 

Martin snorted. “Um, not that that isn’t very kind of you, really, Jon, it is, but the last time you tried to make tea you somehow set the kettle on fire.”

Jon tried to look offended but he only half managed it. He was too happy that he’d made Martin laugh, even if it was at his expense. “It wasn’t my fault! Tim distracted me by saying something completely inaccurate about forest preservation and I didn’t realise there wasn’t any water in it when I turned it on!” he protested. 

Martin laughed again, a small but actual laugh this time. “I’ll make the tea, all the same.”

“Alright, Martin,” Jon sighed, exaggeratedly. “If you insist.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes less time than Jon would have liked for The Mechanisms to come up again. But there are upsides to everything in this life...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely comments, every single one makes my day! Hope you enjoy the chapter and I'll aim to get Chapter 4 to you ASAP!

It took thirty three minutes and twelve seconds for it to come up.

They were having a cup of tea, their second of the evening, and they were just talking. Like regular people who like each other’s company. Jon was pretty sure there was a term for that. Martin was talking about the things that he’d used in his flat to keep himself calm. 

“I ended up listening to a lot of my old CDs, there’s something really comforting about it, you know?”

“Yes, I know what you mean, songs you used to listen to when you were younger are like familiar friends,” Jon hummed contentedly into his tea. 

“Yes, yes exactly! Like, one of my favourite bands, they broke up a while ago, but I used to go and see them in concert whenever I could, they did the whole thing in character, the albums are all concept stories so it was more like a stage show than a concert, but I totally loved it,” Martin babbled happily, waving his arms about for emphasis. 

Jon’s blood ran cold. Shit. Play it cool, Sims, you can get away with this if you are very very careful. 

“Oh? They sound… interesting”

Martin deflated. 

“Yeah, well, I think they are, but I get that they’re not everyone’s thing. I mean, I know you don’t like them, but that’s fine, really.”

“Wait, I never said I didn’t like them!” Jon protested. 

“You didn’t have to,” Martin fidgeted. “I, um, well, I already know you don’t because, um, do you remember the karaoke night?”

Jon felt like he’d been punched in the face. He’s hurt Martin’s feelings, he can tell, even he’s not that emotionally illiterate. But he has absolutely no idea how to fix it without making himself out to be the world’s biggest moron. Which he is. 

“Yes, I remember,” he said softly. 

“Well, the song I sang, you didn’t hear much of it,” Martin can’t help the tiny sliver of accusation that slips into the words, “It was a Mechanisms song, the band I was talking about, and well, you must not have liked it quite a bit because you, um, you left.”

Jon swallowed hard. 

“Martin, I-”

“It’s fine, it’s really fine, you don’t have to like them,” Martin cut him off. 

“Martin, please let me explain, it wasn’t that I didn’t like the song,” Jon tried again. 

Martin looked utterly dejected. “You just didn’t like my singing,” he mutters. 

“No!” Jon’s exclamation was louder than he intended it to be and Martin jumped, spilling tea on the table. Neither one of them moved to clean it up. “No,” Jon said again, “Your singing was _beautiful_ , Martin.”

The silence between them is a physical thing, precious and fragile. It’s Jon that breaks it, he can’t help himself. 

“I should have stayed, I’m sorry.”

Martin exhaled. “It’s fine, I’ve clearly overreacted, sorry. I just, I was thinking about you, about the whole thing I mean, a lot, while I was stuck at home and I promised myself I’d bring it up if I ever got the chance to. I didn’t really think I was going to get the chance to. I thought…” Martin trailed off and Jon moved without thinking again. All he could register was that Martin was hurting, Martin was sad, Martin thought he was going to _die_. _Alone_. And that was unacceptable, so he did the first thing he could think of to make it better. He reached out and took Martin’s hand softly in his own. Martin jumped, but before Jon could think better of the action and take his hand back, he squeezed the tiniest bit, and the corners of his mouth tilted skyward again in a shaky mirror of a smile. 

“I should have known, Martin, I should have done something more. I am so so sorry.” Jon felt his heart spilling out of his mouth but he couldn’t bring himself to mind. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Martin murmured, tracing a little circle on Jon’s thumb with his own. The silence was back but there was something new to it this time, it was still delicate but the fragility was tenderness, a sense that they both wanted to say more but just didn’t know how yet. And that, in the end, it didn’t matter. This was enough for now. 

Martin picked up his tea without removing his hand from Jon’s and took another sip. The smile was stronger now. 

“I think I’m done being morbid for this evening, if that’s okay?” he said, tilting his head to one side. 

“Fine by me,” Jon replied, a smirk forming on his own face. 

“So what shall we talk about?”

There was a pause. 

“Did you know that there are ducks on every continent except Antarctica?”

Martin laughed, “No, no I didn’t actually, Jon, why do _you_ know that?!”

“I well,” Jon ran his hand through his hair and shrugged, “I quite like ducks?”

Martin smiled at him, that thousand watt beam that made Jon feel like he was the only person on the planet. “Ducks are good.” 

………

Martin had been living in the Archives for a month. Jon had been living in the Archives for a month. Only one of these facts was officially sanctioned, but since Martin’s first night, when the two of them had ended up talking until 3 am and then Jon slept on the floor of the cot room with a sleeping bag he found tucked into an old filing cabinet, Jon hadn’t actually been back to his flat except for the very next morning, to pick up some more clothes and a couple of pillows. Nobody had mentioned it, but he got the feeling from Tim’s not-so-subtle winks and nudges that they all knew. 

Not that anything had actually _happened_ , it was just that, Martin had stopped being quite so jumpy around Jon, and Jon had stopped being quite so prickly around everyone, and both of them seemed to be smiling a lot more than they used to. And, to be fair, it wasn't that _nothing_ had happened either. Midnight tea was now a nightly ritual, accidental on purpose hand holding had happened on more than three occasions, and last night Martin had actually hugged Jon goodnight. A proper, actual hug, not because either of them were sad or needed comforting, just _because_. The _because_ hung in the air all day like a glowing halo over Jon's head, and it became too much for Tim to ignore by lunchtime. 

"So, did you finally do it then?" he smirked at Jon, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe of the break room. Jon didn't register the smirk and mistook the question to be regarding his use of the microwave to heat his lunch. 

"I'm almost done, sorry Tim, I'll be out of the way in a second," he said, distractedly. 

Tim sighed and dramatically flopped into a chair. 

"Not the rice salad, boss, which by the way is still the most pathetic lunch option ever. I was asking you if you've banged Martin yet."

Jon jerked and whacked his head on the cupboard. His salad went everywhere as the bowl dropped out of his hands, forgotten and suddenly irrelevant. He stared at Tim. He didn't know exactly how to react. Did he start with saying nothing had happened between him and Martin, or did he have to do the asexuality spiel first? He settled for a mixture of both with a heavy side of his old waspishness thrown in for good measure. 

"The only thing I've 'banged', Timothy, is my head. That's a highly inappropriate question to ask, and not that it's any of your business but nothing has happened between myself and Martin." 

Tim pouted. "Really? Because you're _glowing_ , boss. I mean, I know sex isn't really your thing I'm sorry if the phrasing made you uncomfortable, I really am. I just assumed something had to have gone down because I don't think I've seen you this happy since well, ever? And Martin's been humming songs by his _favourite_ band all day," he added, wiggling his eyebrows on 'favourite'. 

Ah. That. 

"How do you even know about that anyway, Tim?" Jon folded his arms, content with the apology enough to continue the conversation even as he tried to steer it to moderately safer waters. 

"Oh boss, you didn't know? I'm a fan!" Tim grinned at him.

"Seriously, Tim."

"I'm telling you the truth! I own Once Upon A Time In Space and The Bifrost Incident on actual CDs!" Tim protested. "I went to three of your shows, and I'm not blinded by love the way Martin is so I made the connection."

Jon's eyes were wide. And then he did something neither of them expected. He actually smiled. 

"When did you work it out?" he asked. 

"It was quite funny actually, Elias was being a prick about something when we were both still lowly researchers, and he told you to handle something. His exact words were 'you can captain this one, Jon,' and you sort of smirked and muttered 'I'm the first mate'." Tim grinned. 

" I didn't think anyone had heard that, and certainly nobody who'd get it," Jon smiled back. It felt freeing, in a way, talking about the Mechs with Tim. Despite his teasing, he had come to the conclusion that Tim wasn't going to use this against him, and it was nice to just chat about it. 

"What's your favourite song then?" he asked. 

"Hellfire," Tim replied without hesitation. "It's so raw, I love that."

"I had fun with that one," Jon said, a fond memory of a living room covered in discarded note paper and a guitar on his knees flooding his brain. 

"How about you?" Tim asked, pulling him from his reverie. 

"Me? My favourite Mechs song?"

Tim nodded. Jon thought about it for a second and then found that he'd always known the answer. 

"Blood and Whiskey."

"Hmm," Tim cocked his head. "Interesting."

Jon shrugged. He wasn't going to explain it or defend himself. He didn't need to. 

"You won't tell Martin, will you? I haven't worked out how yet but I want to tell him myself," Jon leant forward a bit, earnest. 

"Sure thing, boss," Tim's easy grin was back, "But I've got a few ideas on that if you ever need a hand," he added with a wink. 

"Thank you, Timothy, I'll bear it in mind," Jon deadpanned. Tim laughed and threw up his hands in mock surrender. He pointed to the rice on the floor. 

"Might wanna deal with that before Sasha sees it and has a fit about cleaning the break room properly," he suggested. 

"Good idea," Jon agreed. 

Tim turned to leave and as he went Jon could hear him humming. The words fit themselves in without him trying. 

_Well, that orb of damnation makes the sun seem pale_

_You're quite correct to quiver, you are right to quail_

_The only way to save us is to find that grail_

_Or we all fall into the flames_. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim might have feelings after all, but most of them are irritation with one particular Archivist...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter this time but enjoy some bonus Tim/Sasha content here because I ship them almost as hard as I ship my idiot boys.

“We’re gonna get caught!”

“Oh come on, no we’re not!”

“We are, and then we will, well not get fired because we can’t really get fired, but we’ll get dragged up in front of Elias and he’ll do the whole HR lecture again and I really don’t want to have to listen to that.”

Tim stepped back and cocked his head at Sasha. 

“So what you’re saying is you don’t want to snog me in this supply cupboard instead of doing work?”

Sasha rolled her eyes at him. 

“Of course that is not what I’m saying. I’m just telling you that in about four minutes Jon is going to come in here to get more tapes because he was almost out yesterday and he’s recording four statements today.” 

“Well then,” Tim grinned wickedly at her and a thrill ran down Sasha’s spine as he pulled her back in close to him, “We’d best not waste those four minutes.”

Lowering his lips to hers Tim was struck, not for the first time, by how much he liked Sasha. Not just in the way that he usually did, the way that made him want to push her against her desk and snog the life out of her every time she smiled, but in that he just really liked spending time with her. It didn’t even matter what they were doing. He’d started to look forward to filing because she would come and do it with him and they’d talk about everything and nothing while she teased him over not stapling fast enough. And that was somewhat new for Tim. The tingle he got when she looked at him didn’t feel just sexual anymore, and he was a bit scared about what that meant.

Fortunately for him he wouldn’t have any more time to muse about it right then, as someone wrenched open the cupboard door and the pair broke apart as light spilled over them. 

Martin surveyed them. Sasha’s blouse was open three buttons lower than could be considered work appropriate, Tim’s hair was messy and still had one of Sasha’s hands in it, and Tim’s left hand was curled around Sasha’s waist. Not to mention the significant amount of red smudges all over Tim’s face. 

“Don’t mind me, I just need…” Martin blushed and grabbed a box of staples from above Sasha’s head. Holding them against his chest, he nodded at them and added, “I’ll be off then. Have fun. I’ll, um, tell Jon to get his tapes from the other cupboard today.”

And then he was gone, door swinging shut behind him, shrouding the couple once more in semi-darkness. There was a beat of silence between them. And then Tim sniggered, and Sasha snorted, and then they were both laughing, big gasping guffaws of laughter that left them breathless. 

“Oh my god, did you see his face?!” Sasha giggled. 

“I know, I know! I thought he was going to have an aneurysm!” Tim answered, doubled over and clutching his stomach. 

It took them a full minute to slow their breathing and get the giggles under control. When they had managed it though, Sasha leant back against the shelves and raised an eyebrow at Tim. 

“You know, Martin did say that he’d be directing Jon away from this particular cupboard…”

“He did,” Tim agreed, leaning in a bit closer, bracing a hand above her head. 

“Which means my original estimate of four minutes might have been adjusted,” Sasha continued, running her tongue over her bottom lip. 

“It might,” Tim nodded sagely.

“And therefore, you could almost say,” Sasha grinned at him.

“We have all the time in the world,” Tim finished, capturing her lips again. 

………

Martin couldn’t stop blushing. It wasn’t really even that he’d caught TIm and Sasha in flagrante. He knew they were an item, he knew what Tim was like (although honestly he’d been a bit surprised that Sasha had gone with it), and it wasn’t like he’d never seen two people snogging in a cupboard before (secondary school had been a bit of an adventure for young Martin).

No, the thing that meant Martin was still blushing half an hour later, was that he couldn’t stop imagining exactly how it would look if someone caught him and Jon like that. 

Which was now a problem because Jon was talking to him and Martin hadn't heard a word of it. All he could do was stare at Jon's lips forming words and imaging how it might feel to capture them between his own. Running his tongue over the chapped section in the bottom left corner, soothing it and-

"Martin are you listening?" Jon's voice finally cut through the heady daydream. 

"Hmm? Oh, um, no," Martin admitted sheepishly. 

Jon sighed and pushed a stray strand of hair behind his ear. Martin tried not to think about how it would feel to run his own hands through the long salt and pepper locks. 

"I was asking you if you wanted to get out of the archives tonight, for a bit, after work?" Jon wouldn't meet his eyes and Martin registered with a jolt that he was nervous. Why would he be nervous? 

"Yeah, actually! That'd be great. A walk or something?" Martin smiled softly at the shorter man trying to reassure him. 

"Um, actually, I had a sort of uh, specific destination in mind?" Jon shifted from foot to foot. 

"Oh! Brilliant!" Martin grinned. He didn't really care where they were, as long as he was spending more time with Jon. This new, softer, nervous, incredibly adorable Jon, who was now looking at him with something akin to hope in his eyes. 

"Excellent. I'll meet you by the doors at, say, 7:30 then?" 

"Sure thing," Martin nodded. 

"Fantastic. Um, it's a date! I'll see you later, Martin." And with that Jon was gone, scuttling off down the corridor very quickly, as if he was scared Martin might have a chance to reply. 

He needed have worried. Martin couldn't have said anything if he'd wanted to. His jaw was hanging open and his brain was parroting "it's a date" on a loop. It would be several long seconds before he remembered how to breathe.

………

"Tim! Tim I know you're in there, open the door!" 

"I'm a little busy, boss," Tim growled at Jon through the cupboard door, not stopping his thorough examination of Sasha's neck and collarbones.

"Timothy Stoker if you don't open the door, then I will," came the reply. 

Sasha shoved Tim off of her with a laugh and he huffed. 

"You'd better see what he wants, he almost sounds threatening," she grinned as she buttoned up her shirt and pressed one last kiss to Tim's swollen lips. "I'll catch up with you later, babe," she added, winking as she pushed past him and out into the corridor with a confident swagger. 

"Hullo, Jon," she said, oozing casual nonchalance as she walked past him back towards the Archives. Jon had the decency to look a bit sheepish as Tim emerged from the cupboard, dishevelled and blinking in the light. 

"This had better be good, boss."

"Um, well, I need your help with something actually. It's about Martin-" 

"Say no more, boss man," Tim held up a hand and his grin returned at full wicked mischievousness, "I'm in."

"You don't even know what I need you to do yet, Tim," Jon sighed exasperatedly. 

"Doesn't matter because I'm assuming this is about you telling Martin about your connections to his favourite band, and I am so in."

"Alright well yes it is, I had a bit of an idea. So tonight I'm going to take Martin to…" Jon detailed his idea. 

Tim listened to the plan and then threw back his head and laughed. 

"Perfect, boss," he chuckled. 

"You think?" Jon bit his lip. 

"Oh yeah," Tim clapped him on the shoulder, "Lead the way, captain."

Jon smiled at him, a wicked grin that made him seem for a moment like a wholly different person, and When he replied his voice had a gravelly quality to it that wasn't usually there.

"First mate, actually."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore reading all of your comments thank you so much for reading! There will be one more chapter after this!!

Jonny d’Ville didn’t get nervous. Jonny d’Ville was a force of nature, a swaggering, confident, sexy being who absolutely did not get nervous. Jon really wanted to know where the fuck that guy was when he needed him. 

He was walking next to Martin, on their way to a little known bar in the center of London. Martin was talking at a million miles an hour and Jon was desperately trying to focus on the words. It was something about Tim and Sasha, he thought. Usually it was so easy to listen to Martin talk, he loved the way Martin’s voice surrounded him like a physical hug, it was one of the best feelings on the planet. Unfortunately, this evening his mind was a little ways ahead of them, in the bar already, and it was panicking. 

_ What if this went wrong? What if Martin was angry he hadn’t told him earlier? What if Martin was only attracted to Jonny d’Ville and this ruined everything they had just started building? What if he couldn’t sing anymore, it had been too long? What if Martin hated him? _

“Jon?” 

Martin had stopped rambling and was looking at him quizzically. 

“Hmm?”

“Are you alright?” Martin’s hand brushed against his arm and Jon shivered.

“Yes, I’m fine, Martin.”

“Are you sure, you’ve gone sort of… pale,” Martin frowned. 

Jon paused. “The place is just down here,” he replied, turning down a side alley that looked seedier than it was. The Mechs had an aesthetic to keep up. 

Martin let it go, following him into the bar and up the stairs to the smaller space above it. 

“Where are we, Jon? This doesn’t exactly seem like your usual scene,” Martin smiled at him teasingly. 

“Um, it doesn’t?” Jon fidgeted with his hair. 

“Not really,” Martin shrugged and gestured around at the dark, slightly run down space. There was a small bar set up near the back, and on the opposite side of the room a stage of sorts. There was a crowd of about thirty or so people there, and as Jon was trying to come up with an appropriate response, one of them peeled off and waved at them, jogging over. 

“Hey guys!” Tim grinned. 

“Hey Tim?” Martin replied, tilting his head in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, I assume, I’m here for the show!” Tim gestured at the stage, where a drum kit and several instruments were set out. 

“A show?” Martin turned back to Jon. “You brought me to a show?” 

“Yes,” Jon nodded. Then he paused. “Is that alright?”

“Definitely!” Martin smiled wide and nodded happily. “What kind of band is it?” 

“Martin, my friend,” Tim slung an arm over his shoulder, “you’re gonna love them.” He winked at Jon who regretted all of his life choices. “Come grab a drink.” 

Tim pulled Martin away, who tried to turn back to ask Jon what he wanted, but had already lost him to the growing crowd. There were now something like 60 people in this room, and an atmosphere of anticipation was building. Martin shrugged. He would find Jon in a minute. 

Jon breathed a sigh of relief and quickly snuck through a side door. He’d been somewhat concerned about trusting Tim with the plan, but distraction, it seemed, was his forte in every scenario. The side door took him to a small backstage area, where some familiar faces were waiting to greet him. 

“There you are!” Jon jumped as a man in steampunk getup clapped him on the shoulder. But as he turned and met the grin of The Mechanisms’ pilot, he felt the archivist melt away. When he opened his mouth to reply, it wasn’t Jon who spoke. 

“Good to see you, Brian,” replied Jonny d’Ville. With a wink he added, “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

Drumbot Brian nodded and waved an arm with a flourish towards a truly spectacular outfit and a screen. 

“We’d be lost without our  _ captain _ ,” he quipped. 

“Oh, come on, that’s just cruel,” Jonny laughed as he grabbed the hanger and stepped behind the screen.

…….. 

  
  


Martin was starting to panic. There were close to 90 people here now, and he couldn’t see Jon anywhere. 

“Will you relax, blondie?” Tim took a swig of his beer. “He’s probably gone to the bathroom. He’ll be back soon.”

“Yeah,” Martin nodded, trying to stop himself craning to scan the crowd. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“You won’t be able to miss him,” Tim muttered to himself, “If there’s one thing the boss man knows how to do, it’s an entrance.”

“What?” Martin leant closer trying to hear. 

“Nothing! Let’s get closer to the stage, they’re gonna start soon,” Tim grabbed Martin’s hand and pulled him through the crowd. “You’re going to want the best view of this,” he added, “Trust me.”

Martin was about to say something in reply when music began to pipe through the speakers and the crowd surged towards the stage. It took him a few seconds to hear it properly, over the whooping and excited whispers around him, but when he did he turned to Tim urgently. 

“Hang on, I know that song, it’s-”

“No idea what you’re on about, buddy,” Tim said, eyes wide with false innocence. 

“Oh my god! I can’t believe I didn’t know about this! The Mechs don’t  _ do _ gigs anymore! How did Jon know about a Mechs gig?? And where is Jon, he’s going to miss it!” Martin was bouncing up and down now, like a child on christmas morning. 

“Don’t worry about that,” Tim answered, “He won’t miss anything.”

Martin didn’t even hear him because at that exact moment a gravelly voice interrupted the music and growled at the audience from somewhere unseen. 

“Alright, you sneering little punks, shut up and pay attention!”

Martin squealed. 

“Don’t think you’re special because you can see ghosts now. See, time’s a funny thing, it isn’t always the most linear beast, and we thought why not make the most of that? Where’s the fun in being dead if you don’t get to stop for a story every now and then?” The voice continued, almost drowned out by the cheering crowd as members of the crew of the Aurora began to file onto stage and tune their instruments.

Drumbot Brian, Ivy Alexandria, Gunpowder Tim, Ashes O’Reilly, The Toy Soldier…. They were all there, and Martin thought he might die of joy. The only thing missing from this was Jon,  _ where the hell had he gone? _

“You know who we are, you know how this goes.” The voice was getting louder now, moving towards them as a figure stepped through onto the stage. The last, but the very opposite of least, member of the crew. “The question is, are you ready?” 

The crowd screamed as Jonny d’Ville emerged, vest gleaming with gold studs, holster strapped to his thigh, and goggles perched on the top of his head. The lightning bolt black streaks on his cheeks highlighted how bright his eyes were, and as he finished the sentence, he leant down to the crowd so that those eyes met Martin Blackwood’s. Who jumped. Because he  _ knew _ those eyes. 

“Tim, that’s-!”

“Yes, yes it is,” replied a grinning Timothy Stoker, camera very firmly capturing all of it. 

Jon winked at Martin. Then he straightened up again and just like that Jon melted back into Jonny d’Ville, and the show really began. 

………

“Hello?” The voice was tentative. 

The show had been a roaring success, often very literally. Martin had loved every second of it, but through it all ran the shock of Jon’s revelation. The rest of the crowd had just about all filed out, and Tim had pointed him through the side door, telling him that he’d see them both back at work on Monday. And so it was that Martin found himself alone in a room with Jonny d’Ville. 

The First Mate was leant against a table, causal and nonchalant. He lifted his eyes slowly, roving over Martin’s whole body on the way up to his face, which by the time he got there was blushing furiously. 

“Hello, Martin,” he said, a wicked grin spreading over his face like butter. 

“Um,” Martin managed. He gulped. 

“Enjoy the show?” Jonny asked. 

It was so obvious now, Martin wondered how he could have failed to put them together before. Under the gravel and slightly more salacious inflections, the voice was still  _ Jon _ . This was the thought that made him brave. He took a deep breath and allowed himself a long look. 

“I think I still am,” he winked. 

Jonny d’Ville faltered. This wasn’t how he’d planned this going. But then again, Jon reasoned, Jonny didn’t need a plan. 

“Well, I’m all ready for my close up,” he replied, moving off the table and pushing into Martin’s personal space. He could see the way the blush on Martin’s cheeks highlighted his freckles from this close. It was beautiful. 

Martin’s breath hitched. “I see that.” He might have closed the gap between them, had all of Jon’s confidence not deserted him at that exact moment. 

Shrinking away from him a bit, the voice dropped back into the familiar cadence of Jonathan Sims. “Are you… are you disappointed, Martin?”

“Disappointed?” Martin was confused. 

“That it’s me, I mean. Jonny d’Ville. I know I’m not exactly the most exciting man in reality, have I ruined it for you?” Jon pulled his hair free of the ponytail and began braiding it for something to do with his fingers. 

“Ruined it?” Martin smiled gently. “Not even a little, Jon. If anything, it’s better than I could have imagined.”

“Oh?” Now it was Jon’s turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Martin explained, pulling Jon closer to him by the waist, “If Jonny d’Ville wasn’t you, then I wouldn’t get to live out this particular fantasy of mine.”

“What fantasy would that be, Mr Blackwood?” Jon raised an eyebrow, a tiny bit of the swagger creeping back into his voice. 

“The one where Jonny d’Ville might have a crush on me too,” Martin replied. 

“Oh,” Jon blinked. “Well. He definitely does.”

Martin didn’t have words to reply to that. But there were lots of other ways he could use his lips to express his feelings, and it seemed Jon had had a very similar thought, because they both moved at the same time, and then they were finally,  _ finally _ , kissing. And it was _perfect_. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you have to say how you feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so so much for reading and commenting, I have loved every second of writing this story and I'm so pleased that you all seem to have enjoyed it as much as I have! I can't wait to write more of these beautiful idiots, so please come read my other works!!

Jonathan Sims had never really understood the concept of incandescent happiness before. Incandescence had always held far too much of a connection to the Desolation for him to put it together with joy. But he finally understood what people meant when they said that happiness made you  _ glow _ .

Martin was sitting on his sofa. In his flat. Wearing his goggles. It was possibly the cutest thing that Jon had ever seen in his  _ life _ and he couldn’t believe that he was allowed to just  _ say _ that now, and the burning feeling in his chest was so bright and so brilliant it felt like he was on fire but in the best possible way. 

“Those look good on you, you know,” he said as he sat back down and handed Martin a cup of tea.

He was still wearing the vest, no longer buttoned up, but he’d abandoned the holster and the long coat when they’d got back to the flat. Martin smiled at him from over the rim of his mug. 

“I like them.” he replied, taking a sip of his tea. “Maybe I’ll keep them,” he added with a deliberate wink. 

Something curled up in the core of Jon’s chest and purred. 

“Jon, can I ask you something?”

The purring stopped. 

“Um, yes, of course.”

“How did you do that? Get the band to agree to perform, I mean?”

Jon let go of the breath he had been holding and smiled. 

“It was easier than you might have thought actually. I, um, well we have a group chat to keep in touch, and I just sort of messaged about potentially doing a one-off gig. And when a couple of them asked why, I told them about you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Martin, you. I told them that there was this man, this truly lovely, caring, gorgeous, sweet, funny man that I was completely head-over-heels for and that I needed The Mechs for a grand romantic gesture. You should have seen how fast they all agreed after that, they’re such soppy dorks,” Jon laughed. 

Martin was quiet. Jon leaned over and put a hand on his cheek. 

“Martin? Are you alright? Did I say something wrong?”

When Martin lifted his eyes to meet Jon’s, they were filled with tears. Jon panicked. 

“Oh, Martin, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you-”

Martin cut him off. “You didn’t! You didn’t upset me at all, these are happy tears, Jon, I promise. It’s just that- well, that is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me and I’m a little bit overwhelmed because I’ve been in love with you for so long thinking you could never ever feel that way about me, and then you go and do  _ this _ and it’s just…. Wonderful.”

“Oh.” Jon felt that this was an inadequate response, but had run out of words to do justice to the butterflies in his stomach and the frantic rhythm of his heart. So he just leant forward and kissed Martin softly. As he pulled away again, a thought occurred to him. 

“Martin?”

“Hmm?” Martin sighed happily. 

“What’s your favourite Mechs song?” 

Martin didn’t hesitate, but he didn’t answer the way Jon expected him to either. He opened his mouth and sang.

“ _ Maybe it’s the heat or maybe it’s the pain, But I can’t shake the feeling we’re not coming back again. We're not pure of heart, but we’re sure of aim, And our heads are full of love and blood and whiskey. _ ”

The kiss this time was not soft or gentle. It was fire and passion and almost knocked Martin off the sofa entirely. At the very least, he was glad he’d put down his mug. 

“What was that for?” he asked, breathlessly when Jon finally let him come up for air. 

“I love you, Martin,” Jon told him.

“Oh!” Martin’s smile could have outshone the sun. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

“I love you too, Jon,” Martin kissed the words into his mouth and Jon felt them settle in his soul. Everything was going to be fine.

………

Jon and Martin walked through the doors of the Institute on Monday morning holding hands. Tim took one look at them and grinned. 

“Finally!” 

“Yes, yes, Timothy, you told me so, I am acutely aware,” Jon said, but his smile gave him away. 

“I’m really happy for you both, honestly,” Tim replied, the sincerity in his voice taking Jon somewhat by surprise. 

“Thanks, Tim,” Martin grinned back. 

Tim looked like he was considering something, and then he spun on his heel, throwing an explanation over his shoulder as he disappeared into the Archives. “I’ve got to go and do something, see you later!”

………

In the stacks of the Archive, Tim found Sasha, filing manilla folders into alphabetised drawers. 

“Sasha!”

“Tim, I’m a little busy right now.”

“It’s alright, this won’t take long, but you owe me twenty quid, and also I love you.”

Sasha dropped her files. Turning to him, eyes wide, she gaped like a fish out of water. 

“What did you just say?”

“I said you owe me twenty quid, Martin and bossman finally got together,” Tim repeated. 

“You know that’s not what I meant, Tim,” Sasha said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh that other thing?” Tim slid an arm round her waist. 

“Yes, the other thing,” Sasha nodded, crossing her hands behind his neck. 

“I said, I love you, Sasha James,” Tim smiled, a gentleness in his eyes that only Sasha ever got to see. 

Sasha hummed contentedly. “Idiot,” she grinned. 

“Hey! You’re supposed to say ‘I love you too, Tim,’ not ‘idiot’!” Tim protested. 

Sasha leaned up and kissed him. 

“I love you too, idiot.”

……

“Where’s he off to?” Jon frowned quizzically, watching Tim skid round the corner and out of sight.

Martin didn’t say anything, but smiled to himself. He’d seen the look on Tim’s face and knew it well. He knew  _ exactly  _ where he was going. Turning to Jon, he pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Mr Blackwood, that’s entirely unprofessional,” Jon teased. 

“Well then, I suggest we go and be unprofessional in your office where no-one else can see, _First Mate_ ,” Martin replied with a wicked grin. 

Jon took his hand and kissed it gently. “Honestly, Martin, we're in love and you can't give me this? Sometimes I wonder why I even bother.”

Martin smiled. "It's because you love me."

"Yes," Jon agreed, "I suppose it is."


End file.
